


System Failure

by 221BBBC



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Android Moriarty, Android Sherlock, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Doctor John Watson, Future, Future Fic, John has past in the goverment, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Past Character Death, Robot Feels, Romance, Swearing, Violence, and as a coroner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221BBBC/pseuds/221BBBC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s year 3095 and John Watson lives in London. Well, Old  London. He’s a doctor at a small clinic and his life consists of work, a few unmemorable girlfriends and lots of tea in between. Nothing happens to him. Until one night, he gets a call from one of his old colleagues down at St. Barts. He discovers a body with a strange humming sound coming from inside it and his past in the government comes flooding back to him in the form of a broken android. He repairs the android and comes to find that he’s an escaped lab experiment named Sherlock Holmes. For a while, John allows Sherlock to live with him and grows quite fond of him, but what happens when the government wants Sherlock back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mysterious Humming

**Author's Note:**

> First Sherlock fic. This chapter is a bit long, I dunno if the others will be this long or not.  
> Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors. This is Un-Beta'd!!!  
> 

Chapter 1

It’s a chilly autumn evening and John is enjoying a nice hot cup of tea by the fire and listening to his favorite record and—Oh god, is that a spider? John freezes with the cup in his mouth and swallows hard. He hates spiders.

He eyes the suspicious black dot next to his right slipper that he swears wasn’t there a moment ago and curiously, he nudges it. Sure enough, it’s a spider. It tries to crawl onto his foot and up his leg, but John quickly brushes it away and watches it hit the floor and scamper off under the rug. He shudders. Its 3095 and spiders are still walking the earth like they own the place. What is wrong with the world?

Admittedly, that’s probably the only excitement John has since moving back to London. Well, Old London, anyway. That and the occasional mid-appointment breakdown he sees at work. John is a doctor. Not like the exciting ones on the telly who get to deal with car crashes and heart-attacks; John works in a clinic. His patients are usually just in need of some cold medicine or just a good check-up. It’s not a bad job, mind you. but falters in comparison to some of his previous lines of work. The only real problem with this job is that it’s boring. Then again, almost everything about John’s life is boring. For the last several years, John’s life has consisted of work, a few unmemorable girlfriends and lots of tea in between. Nothing happens to him.

John’s watch gives a little beep, drawing him from his thoughts, and he checks the time. It’s currently 10:30pm. He sighs and decides he’d better be off to bed so he wont be completely drained for work in the morning. Not that it really matters much. He reluctantly pries himself from his chair and is just about to head to the kitchen when his cellphone begins buzzing from his pocket. Who’s calling at this hour?

He pulls out the phone and glances at the color ID. Molly Hooper?

It’s been ages since hes talked to her!

“Hello?” He answers, continuing on his way to put his cup in the sink.

“Hey, John. It’s Molly.”

“I saw,” He’s mostly joking, but it seems Molly doesn’t notice.

“Oh god, yeah, sorry. I just—It’s late and I—”

“Woah, Molly, calm down. It’s a joke.” He hears Molly take a deep breath on the other end, “…Is something wrong?”

“No, just…I need you to come in. To St. Barts.” John puts his cup down a lot harder than he intends to and he has to check if hes broken it.

“St. Barts? At this hour? _Why_?”

“I need you to look at something.” This has to be some sort of joke.

“Molly, I’m not a medical examiner anymore. Why not call Stamford? The bloke’s just as good as I am.”

“Stamford can’t help, John. I need you.” Her tone is concerningly serious and John begins to wonder what’s really going on.

“It’s late, Molly. What on earth is going on that can’t wait until morning at least?”

“I can’t say it over the phone. You just have to see it for yourself.” John begins to sight before she’s even finished, “Please, John…I don’t know who else to call…”

John remains silent for a good while, contemplating his options, and Molly checks to see if the call dropped.

“Fine.” He says after a while, sounding a bit more upset than he really is. Who is he kidding?

There isn’t much that stumps Molly when it comes to the medical field, and if whatever is going on is bad enough for her to have to call, then it has to be interesting at least. Probably the only interesting thing he’ll see for the next ten years. “I’ll be there in five.”

Against his better judgement, he soon finds himself standing on the bottom floor of St. Barts several minutes later, staring down the cheery brunette at the end of the hall who’s smiling and waving in his direction.

“John, it’s great to see you again!” She says, hugging him when he finally makes it over to her.

“You too,” He replies politely, though his eyes say ‘why the hell am I here?’.

Molly notices right away and soon they’re off again down the corridor

“So what’s going on?” He asks as they walk. The bottom floor is a lot bigger than he remembers it being.

“Well, I’m not sure how to explain it. They brought it in about an hour ago and, well, I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t know how it got here, really.” Her choice of words is strange.

“What exactly are we talking about here?” He asks just as they come to a stop at the last door on the left. The Private Examination Room.

“See for yourself,” She whisks open the door and John walks in first. Molly shuts the door behind them rather hastily, like whatever’s in there is a secret. On the table is exactly what one would expect to find at a morgue, a boy covered in a white sheet. John approaches the body and pulls the sheet down just enough to reveal the head. It’s a man, probably in his mid-thirties, with a mess of dark brown curls invading his face. Curiously, John pulls the sheet down further and further, eyes scanning for an abnormality. Nothing. The body is in almost pristine condition—almost doesn’t even look dead.

“Natural causes?” He asks, turning his head to look at Molly, who is fiddling with her hands nervously.

“I didn’t get that far,” John finds that odd, but he isn’t really in the mood to press for questions. This isn’t nearly as interesting as he’d thought and now he just wants to get back to his bed.

“Well he looks normal.” He concludes when Molly joins him at the table. She looks as if there’s a three-headed alien lying there.

“That’s what I thought. Everything about it looks normal,” She agrees, though she’s using the ‘it’ word again, “I examined it myself and nothing was out of place…”

“Except…?”

“Except I heard this weird humming noise coming from inside it.”

John blinks at her. He really hopes she isn’t suggesting what he thinks she is.

“It went on for quite a while, but it died down just several minutes before you got here.”

John looks pensive, “I know you’re the only one beyond the main city who knows anything about this kind of thing, so I called…” After a minute of her looking pleadingly at him, John sighs and decides he’ll give the body a closer look, though he highly doubts there will be anything that even vaguely suggests that it’s a machine.

The body looks and feels quite normal, and the only thing that strikes John as odd is that he doesn’t really look all that dead. He’s pale, of course, but the kind of pale seen in living people that didn’t get outside much. And there isn’t a scratch on him. And if it wasn’t for the lack of pulse, John wouldn’t have wanted to believe he was dead at all.

“I found something else you might like to see, as well.” She remembers, turning the man’s head away and moving the curls up on the back of his neck. There’s as small line of numbers lining his along his nape. 001770. Surely a model number.

John gets this sinking feeling as the possibility of this body being a machine triples right before his very eyes, and as a last resort, he brings his finger up behind the man’s ear and presses down.

Nothing happens. Subconsciously, John lets out the breath he’d been holding and turns to face Molly, looking a lot more chipper than when he’d first shown up.

“See? Nothing abnormal. The numbers were probably just a tattoo.” John wonders what he was thinking. The chances of a robot showing up beyond the walls of the main city is near impossible. “It’s late, “He says, patting her shoulder, “You probably just heard humming from the computer,” John reassures her with a pat and gestures to the old moniter in the corner. Molly stutters a few times, but John’s beyond tired by now and he says goodnight to the coroner and heads for the door.

Except, he doesn’t quite make it there. He ends up stopping halfway there at the quiet humming sound that begins to reverberate throughout the room. He turns to look at the computer.

“I turned it off a bit ago,” Molly informs him, watching his expression turn from confusion into utter dread. He then turns his gaze to the body, which remains still on the slab.

It can’t be.

The body shows no visual signs of change, but the humming grows louder as he arrives back at the table. He puts his ear to the cadaver’s chest, and—Oh no. Machinery.

John’s heart drops to the floor and a wave of confusion comes over him. He has never seen a robot so human before. In the government they’d worked on humanoids before, but they usually just looked like crash test dummies with human faces. And if this truly is made by the government, then there is no reason it should be here of all places.

John pulls back and gives the man— _android_ another look over. It isn’t moving despite the obvious action going on inside it and John figures there’s something wrong with it. The lab-tech part of him takes over and he instinctively begins to feel along the machine’s body, pressing and massaging in various areas in attempts to find the problem. He holds its hands and bends each finger forward and back. They move and feel just like the fingers of an actual person, which is more amazing than it probably should have been to John.

“John,” Molly call him from his deep state of thought and when he looks back at her, she directs his gaze back to the android’s face, “Look.”

His eyes flick back to the android and he soon finds it staring him right in the face. John gasps and shuffles backwards, letting it’s hand fall hard on the metal table. It doesn’t even blink.

“Christ,” John presses a hand to his chest and the android’s eyes follow him as he crouches down to the floor. His heart is pounding against his rib cage now and he has to take a few deep breaths before he can stand up again. Molly as well looks white as a sheet, like she’s just seen a ghost, but the android either doesn’t notice her or doesn’t care that she’s there and keeps its gaze firmly on John as he returns to his feet. All John can think about is that it shouldn’t be here. **It shouldn’t even exist.** Something in him is almost angry, and before he can stop himself, he’s back at its side, asking what it is and where it came from. It stares blankly at him in response. “Can you talk? How did you get here?” Again, it remains silent and expressionless and John wonders if his suspicions are true. He waves a hand in front of it, but its eyes seem locked solely on his face.

“Maybe it’s broken?” Molly inquires when her voice returns to him.

“I’m starting to think so” He grabs the android’s chin and turns its head from side to side, examining. As he’s looking it over, he asks Molly where it was when they found it and she scrambles to get her clipboard.

“It was in an alley near Tooley Street hunched over beside a dumpster and some teenagers in the area found it on their way home.”

“What on earth were you doing there…?” He asks, more to himself than the machine. “Let me see your light,” He holds out his hand and Molly plucks her LED pen from her coat pocket and hands it to him. He shines it in the android’s eyes, up its nose, and then opens its mouth. John’s shocked to see saliva inside. Christ, it even has tonsils! John closes its mouth and clips Molly’s pen on the collar of his jumper.

“Well, what’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“I can’t tell if anything’s wrong on the outside. I’ll have to open it up.” John replies, pulling over the metal tool tray positioned at the end of the table.

“But we don’t have any anesthetic down here!” She starts as john looks for a scalpel among the tools. Anesthetic?

“We don’t need any,” He replies as he finds his tool and turns his gaze back to the android, whose index finger on its left hand is twitching.

“But, won’t it hurt…?”

“Of course not. It won’t feel anything; it’ll just know that i’m inside its chest.” John presses the scalpel to the center of the android’s chest. The skin is soft underneath the blade and for a moment, John isn’t so sure. Everything about it is so human, there’s nothing suggesting it won’t necessarily feel anything. Still, John knows he has to trust his gut and he slowly begins making a Y-incision across its torso. If it does feel anything, it doesn’t show it; it merely watches John as he works.

There’s no blood, as expected, but there’s something far more interesting inside.

“This equipment is far more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen…” John mutters in awe as he pulls back the synthetic skin to reveal the complicated machinery inside. John spots tubes of liquid intertwined with the intricate wiring that weaves in and out of what looks like its rib cage (John uses the term loosely). Of what, he isn’t sure, though he guesses its something like pressure fluid.

In any case, the humming sound is significantly louder with its chest open and John figures that it must be an indication that his suspicions were right. He scans the machinery, carefully weeding through the wires until he finds something at least mildly familiar. There’s a small cylinder near the shoulder area that John recognizes to be a bio-metabolizer and he swears the two sacs under the chest plate are artificial lungs. “They tried to make you as human as possible, didn’t they…?” He murmurs to himself, eyeing a container of clear fluid that one of the the tubes went into. That’s probably what supplies the saliva. There are so many new and unusual things inside the chest cavity that John has to remind himself that he’s supposed to be finding a problem with the android and he calms himself.

“It all looks so complicated…How are you supposed to find out what’s wrong with it in there?” Molly inquires, though John isn’t nearly as overwhelmed as she reckons he should be. She has no idea that John is right in his element, and that he already has a pretty clear idea about what’s wrong with the android, all from the twitch in its finger.

“There’s something wrong with what’s controlling its motor skills.” John says, shining the LED light between a few of its ribs. Molly’s confusion deepens.

“Doesn’t that usually have something to do with the brain?” She questions as if John’s forgotten all his medical training in the past few years.

“Yes, in people. But machines are different,” John say, hooking his finger underneath the third rib on the left side. “Usually the most important things that control the human body are in the brain. In machines, it’s more convenient to have them in the chest. That way it’s easier to access in the case that something needs repaired. And usually, the circuit board that controls the motor skills is right about….here.” John feels the circuit board just underneath the third and fourth ribs. Hang on. Something doesn’t feel right.

His finger scrapes against something embedded inside the circuit board that he’s sure isn’t supposed to be there. He pinches it between his fingers and pulls, but it doesn’t come out. John reaches for the split beak pedo forceps lying on the tray and Molly asks if hes found something.

“There’s something in here that doesn’t belong.” He replied, carefully slipping the forceps between the third and fourth ribs. He pinches tight around the object and pulls, but it doesn’t come out as easily as he thought it would, so he has to apply more force. As a result, when the object finally does come loose, it sends John stumbling backwards and the forceps along with the foreign object hit the floor with a loud pang and the object rolls off underneath a nearby desk. Molly is courteous enough to retrieve the item while John picks up the forceps and massages his wrist.

“John,” Molly calls his attention to her hand, where she’s holding the item up for him to see. It’s a bullet.

“Oh hell…” He’s sure the bullet damaged the circuit board completely, but he doesn’t have the equipment there to check. He sighs and raises a palm to his face.

“Are you going to fix it?” Molly asks, pocketing the bullet and returning to his side. John heaves a heavy sigh. He really wishes he wasn’t contemplating it. It’s a machine, he tells himself, and there’s no reason he should feel obligated to fix it, but…

“It’s awake now and I can’t just leave it…” He finally says.

“That must be why they call you ‘The Healer’…” Molly chuckles. She doesn’t mean anything by it, but for some reason, it makes John angry.

“No, they call me the healer because I’m a bloody doctor!” He snaps, shutting the coroner up completely. She’s right though. When he worked in the government, they used to call him ‘The Healer’ and ‘Hands of Steel’ because of his ability to restore and maintain the conditions of the test bots in the lab. But those days are long gone and he’s no longer what he was. Honestly, the only reason he’s having compassion for this one is because it looks so human, which it shouldn’t, by the way. “I’m sorry, Molly.” He apologizes, placing a hand on her shoulder, “I need to get this thing home.” Molly’s face brightens at this and she smiles.

“I was off ten minutes ago, so I’m free to help out.” John smiles as well and they get down to business. No doubt the android will be too heavy with all the machinery for the two of them to carry home and John suggests that their best bet is to drive him to avoid attracting attention since he’s a ‘dead body’. John decides to text the only bloke he knows with a car who’d be willing to drive at that hour—Mike Stamford.

It’s about ten minutes before Stamford gets there and it takes ten more to inform him of the situation and convince him to drive a robot with his chest cut open to John’s flat, which is no doubt illegal, he reminds John several times on the way there.

The car ride seems to take forever with Stamford panicking, Molly stating every five minutes how ‘human’ the android looks, and the android staring holes into the back of his head from the back seat with Molly. In reality, it’s probably less than 5 minutes but it feels like eternity and John can’t even begin to describe the relief he feels wash over him when he sees his apartment building approaching out the passenger’s window.

It takes all three of them to get the android, who’s draped in only a sheet, out of the car and inside the building. Needless to say, the stairs all the way up to his flat are like physical torture and, God, can those two be any louder? He has to shush them three times to avoid waking the neighbors on the way up and by the time they make it to the door, he practically drops the android all together and leaps to unlock the door to hurry the situation. He swings the door open and they quickly shuffle to get it inside the flat, only narrowly avoiding smacking it’s head off the door frame, before John kicks the door shut and rushes to clear off the table. After a bit of cursing and some strategic turns, they manage to get it onto the table an while Molly and Stamford head for the couch, John puts on a kettle for their efforts and joins them in the living room in his favorite chair.

“So where do you think this…’android’ came from?” Stamford inquires after he catches his breath.

“I don’t know, but it has to be from inside the main city somewhere…” John replies, massaging his neck.

“Do you think it’s government made?” Molly chimes in after a bit.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think anyone else has the money to invest in this sort of technology…” He says, though something still seems off about the whole thing.

“But I still don’t understand something,” Stamford starts, leaning forward in his seat, “If it was made by the government, why is it all the way out here?”

“Well I doubt it just wandered here,” Molly inserts, “And the bullet we found…I think it escaped from wherever it was and made it’s way here and someone must’ve come after it.”

“Do you think someone will be after us now?” Stamford breaks out into a sort of cold sweat and John can see the possible situations flickering through the latter’s eyes.

“No, I don’t think so. At least, not right now, anyway. As far as they know, they killed it.” John replies and Stamford calms a bit.

“But why would they want it dead? I mean, If they spent this much time and money on it, you’d think they’d just take it back to the lab or something.” He questions,

“What if it was too dangerous to try and take back?” Molly suggests and the three turn their gaze to the android lying on the table.

“If that’s true, then we’re in something way bigger than ourselves…” John says thoughtfully and the room is silent for a while.

If it really is from the government, then it’s doubtful it could have escaped without fighting a few soldiers, and obviously whoever came after it thought it was too dangerous to try and retrieve so they just shot at it.

“Either way, I think we’ll have more answers when we get it fixed up.”

Both Stamford and Molly give him and incredulous stare.

“You’re kidding.” Stamford states, and John’s gaze doesn’t falter, “You can’t actually be thinking of fixing that thing!”

“John, it’s too dangerous!” Molly joins in.

“That’s what we brought it here for!”

“Yeah, that’s before we knew it was dangerous enough to take out a bunch of military men!”

Stamford retorts.

“We don’t know that for sure! And we won’t know the truth until it can talk.”

“But what if it kills you the minute it can move?”

It’s mostly Stamford arguing now and Molly’s resigned to staring at John in disbelief.

“It won’t.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because you two are going to leave and i’m going to work on it by myself.” John says, standing from his spot. Stamford and Molly join him,

“John, we can’t just let you go and get yourself killed!” But their protests are in vain because John is soon shepherding them towards the door with arms around their shoulders.

“Oh hush, I’m not going to be killed. Now you two go have a good nights rest and let me work.” He opens the door and gives them a gentle push out into the hall.

“John!” Stamford turns just as John is about to shut the door and grabs his shirt.

John blinks as Stamford jerks him forward.

“You better call us the minute you finish, you bastard.” He growls.

“Will do,” John says with a curt smile and Stamford grudgingly lets him go. “Good night.” And he shuts the door in their face.

After he hears their footsteps trail away, he turns his back and sighs, running a hand through his blonde hair. Christ.

After having the cup of tea they’d all forgotten about, John heads to the bedroom to retrieve the chest containing his tools. With much effort, he manages to drag it back out into the kitchen and beside the table. He forgot how heavy it is.

“You’re lighter than this thing.” He mutters to the android eyeing him from the table. Its been doing that since the minute John came into its line of sight. John stares into those eyes for a long while. They’re blue, but not solid blue. John can see bits of green and even some brown around the pupil. Those aren’t the eyes of a cold metal machine. There’s something frighteningly human in them and whether its physical or mental, John knows there’s a person in there.

“You’re not an ‘it’ at all are you?” ‘It’ is actually a ‘he’.

John catches sight of the android’s finger twitching out of the corner of his eye and he reminds himself of the task at hand. “I know, I know. Let’s get down to business.”

John takes a seat and unlatches the trunk and pulls it open, revealing the many tools he probably shouldn’t have still had in his possession but does nonetheless. These are his power tools, the things he’d used for years to work on every sort of machine possible. He’d built and repaired many things over the course of his work, but he’d also…

John stops himself. He doesn’t need to think of that; There are more important things to worry about. He pulls out his safety glasses and slips them on before going for his laser saw.

Small and silent, yet extremely powerful.

Oh yes, he isn’t supposed to have this at all, but it’s one of his favorites—He couldn’t just let it go. John stands and undrapes the android to reveal his open chest. John readies his saw,

“Are you going to watch?” The brunette continues to stare, unperturbed, and John shrugs, “Suit yourself.”

It takes a hell of a lot longer than John thought it would to open up the bots chest because of the strange metal that was used to forge his ribs, but once John gets them completely off and out of the way, the damage is obvious. The circuit board on his left side is surely damaged, but it is the wires that run around and over it that got the brunt of the damage. They’ll have to be replaced for sure, but he should be able to repair the circuit board with some effort. It’ll take a while, though and John makes a note to call in sick at work in the morning.

As of now, John checks his watch, it’s just a few minutes shy of midnight and John figures he should be able to finish before tomorrow afternoon if he keeps at it.

He spends about an hour or so familiarizing himself with the interface and then he gets down to

the actual repair job. It’s a long and trying process, taking well over ten hours with two tea breaks and a bathroom break and the entire time those eyes are locked on him. John feels somewhat like a bug under a microscope—Like he’s being analyzed. It’s ironic considering he isn’t the one lying on a table with his chest wide open.

It’s around 11:30am when he finishes and closes it up. He learns that the android’s skin heals itself together almost instantly. This explains the lack of a bullet hole.

John heaves a heavy sigh and wipes the sweat off his brow. “That oughta do it,” He turns his gaze to the android, who remains unmoving, “Well?” He starts, leaning forward in his seat, “Can you move?” The android doesn’t reply and John furrows his brows in confusion.

John waves a hand in front of the androids face, but he keeps his eyes locked on Johns. “Hello, can you hear me? Can you talk at all?” There’s no reply or even a sign that he’s even heard John and John is thoroughly confused. That should have done it.

His finger is no longer twitching, which should be a good sign, but John wonders if he broke something else on the android instead. “I need some coffee,” He says, feeling utterly defeated as he stands up from the table. He turns to go towards the counter when suddenly, he feels a hand latch onto his wrist. He stops short and turns to face the android on the table once more, only to find the same icy stare. “Can…” John swallows hard, “Can you talk?” He leans over to get a closer look.

The android parts his lips after a moment and John can see his chest rise as he takes in a breath before he says, “Watson.” It’s very quiet and barely audible, but John hears it and he stands up straight.

“Say that again,” He says, unsure of whether to trust his ears or not. He holds his breath.

It takes the latter a moment to respond.

“John…Watson…” Now he definitely heard that.

“How do you know who I am?” He asks. The first name is understandable, but no time in the span of last night did anyone say his last name. The android doesn’t respond and John rubs his face with his free hand. At least he seems to be fully repaired. “Can you sit up?” He asks. It takes the brunette much less time to react this time and he sits up with ease. John can’t help but smile,

“Brilliant.” A job well done. “Good as new.” Though…he’s still holding onto John’s wrist. “Are you stuck?” John asks, gesturing to his wrist and the android lets go almost immediately. John is almost sure he hears the android clearing his throat, but he ignores the noise and shrugs it off as being tired.

“You are fatigued.” The android points out and John chuckles.

“You’re a sharp one, aren’t you?” And if he isn’t mistaken, John swears he sees something close to offense on his face, but it comes and goes too quickly for John to tell. John massages the back of his neck and goes to start a pot of coffee. His body cracks several times in the process and he groans, muttering that he’ll regret everything later. He fills the pot and is in the process of scooping some coffee into a filter when he begins to get the familiar feeling that hes being watched. “Can you not watch me like that?” He asks as he finishes the pot and presses a few buttons to get started.

“At the angle you are facing with no reflective surfaces, it is physically impossible that you can tell if you are being looked at or not from my location.” He responds and John grins.

“You were, weren’t you?” He asks, never turning away from the coffee maker.

“Purely coincidental.” And John rolls his eyes. So he’s an arguer.

“Hardly anything these days is coincidental.”

It’s quiet for a while and John wonders if he’s at a loss for what to say.

“John Watson.” There it is again. John feels sick.

“Yeah, how the hell do you know my name?” He asks, turning around to face the android.

“John Hamish Watson, age 34. Works at St. Brandy’s clinic. Previous job as a coroner at St. Bartholomew’s hospital as a medical examiner for approximately 4 years. Worked 7.5 years in the technical division of the government in a lab located in Baskerville before resigning and moving back to the blue sector. Current place of residence, 221B Baker Street, located in Old London. All family members deceased apart from a distant cousin in Old Cardiff.”

The android speaks rapid fire and John has to hold onto the counter to avoid falling over. He stares in disbelief at the android sitting on his table for a while before he regains the ability to speak.

“How in the hell do you know all that?” He asks sharply.

“It’s in the database.” The brunette responds.

“What database?” John spits and the android places a finger to his temple.

“What _are_ you…?”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. Clumsy Android

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _John wonders how in the hell something this advanced and intelligent could be so clueless about the most simple things."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever to write this for some reason.   
> This chapter is a lot more domestic and light than the last, too...  
> Again, sorry for any grammatical and/or spelling errors!

  
  


Chapter 2

  
  


"I seriously don't know how clothes aren't in your database." John grumbles as he buttons up the dress shirt on Sherlock's torso. He hasn't done up this many buttons in a long time, and its proving to be ridiculously frustrating to try to do them up on a constantly shifting android. If he doesn't stop squirming...

 

"Such information is useless to me, so it wasn't included." Sherlock answers, toying with one of the buttons John has already done. John slaps his hand a bit harshly in response.

 

"Well you'd better put it in your database right now, because I am NOT doing this again." He retorts, doing up the last button and then proceeding to roughly tuck in the front of Sherlock's top into his trousers. Sherlock looks rather uncomfortable and John turns him around to do the same to the rest. "There we go."

 

"Data transferred." Sherlock says a bit reluctantly as John turns him around front again and steps back to take a look at him. The android looks quite nice, actually. Whoever created him certainly didn't skimp on looks, John admits to himself.

 

"You look good! Though I have to say, these clothes are seriously outdated..." The fashion these days is mostly tight and leather, and compared to that standard, the clothes Sherlock is dressed in look centuries old. He's wearing a plum-colored main-line dress shirt that fits him well--maybe even a bit snug on him, and a pair of black slacks with a nice black belt. John's landlady, Mrs. Hudson, supplied him with the clothing and even threw in some extra shirts, some scarves, and even a Belstaff Milford-Style coat. They don't even make those anymore, and John is sure it has to be worth some money by now. The clothing is Mrs. Hudson's late husband's great, great grandfather's, hardly worn, and stunningly maintained throughout the years.

There are no shoes or socks in the mix, though, but John figures he'll think about that when the time comes. He just wants to make sure that Sherlock won't be able to run around naked anymore. "Go take a look at yourself," He says to the android standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room and gestures to the mirror above his fireplace. Sherlock is obedient for the moment and takes a few steps towards the mirror. He gives himself a long look and John gathers that this must be the first time Sherlock has seen himself because he looks as if he's eyeing a stranger. "Do you like what you see?"

 

"I do not feel anything in particular about my appearance." The android replies, staring closely at his reflection, like it will move if he looks away. He does end up looking away after a moment, anyway, because John sighs and shakes his head. He has given up on trying to get opinions out of the android. "...I suppose this clothing is suitable." Sherlock says after a moment. John isn't sure if Sherlock just said that to satisfy him, but he doesn't spend too much time on it.

 

"We gotta do something about that mop on your head, though." He says. Sherlock's hair doesn't look bad necessarily, its just a bit overgrown (Can an android's hair even grow?) Sherlock's curls go down past his brow and hang into his eyes and John wonders how he can see like that. He'll have to get Mrs. Hudson to give them a trim later. The android looks almost offended by John's comment and he brushes the bangs out of his eyes himself.

 

"My appearance was specifically designed to appear this way by my creators." He informs John in a way that seems defensive. John has to stop himself from snorting.

"Your creators were probably a bunch of old blokes with bad eyesight." John retorts, and he can't hide his amusement when Sherlock gives himself another look in the mirror before looking away as if he's unfazed. John swears that each second Sherlock is awake, the more human he becomes. Its truly something amazing.

Either way, John decides he'd better get some breakfast going before his stomach starts to eat away at his other internal organs. He thinks about asking Sherlock if he wants something to eat, but he decides against it moments later. Sherlock will probably just give him a speech about how, despite his bio-metaboliser, he is an android and doesn't possess the need or desire to consume food. Yes, he definitely doesn't need any more of that. John goes into the kitchen and digs out his good skillet for some eggs and puts a few pieces of bread in the toaster.

Sherlock looms over him as he cooks, watching his every move and soaking it in like a sponge. And while John admires his eagerness to learn, he doesn't fancy having Sherlock bump into him and causing him to drop his food on the floor, so he orders Sherlock to go sit and the android retreats to the couch.

When he's finished, John takes a seat next to Sherlock and turns on the telly. The news is on.

John settles into one of the stories about an infestion of life-sucking lilacs in Cardiff and goes to take a bite of his toast when he finds Sherlock leaning in startlingly close to him. His eyes flicker between the food on John's plate and the piece of toast inches away from his mouth. John sighs and closes his eyes, "Personal space, Sherlock." He says, and takes a bite.

Sherlock doesn't get the hint, however, and leans in even closer to watch John chew. John uncomfortably pulls the toast away from his mouth.

"You can try it." He says after he swallows. Sherlock immediately straightens up in his spot and lets him know that won't be necessary, but John is past the point of arguing. "You obviously want to, so go ahead so I can get on with my meal." Sherlock tries to deny again, but John is getting tired rather quickly and eventually, he ends up shoving the toast into Sherlock's mouth. The android sits there for a minute, stunned with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth and the sight is enough to make John lighten up a bit and laugh. "Hurry up before it falls!" He says, lightly hitting Sherlock on the arm.

Sherlock looks hesitant. "It's okay." John reassures him, and Sherlock takes ahold of the toast. John urges him take a bite and within seconds Sherlock's entire face lights up with wonder. John watches him eat for a bit, ignoring the fact that he is devouring the entire piece instead of just a bite, and he can't help but smile at how amazed Sherlock looks as he chews. John can't remember the first thing he ever ate, or the first time he learned to chew, but he can only imagine how it must feel to Sherlock, learning it all at once.

"How was it?" John asks when Sherlock finishes.

"I am not sure what you mean." The android responds.

"You know, did it taste good?" Could he even taste? "Did you like it?"

"It tasted neither good nor bad, and I can hardly see how I can _like_ a taste." John laughs regardless because, as Sherlock talks, he is eyeing the scrambled eggs on John's plate. John holds his plate out to Sherlock.

"Do you know how to use a fork?" He asks. Sherlock takes the plate and grabs the fork confidently.

"Of course I do." He doesn't know that he's holding the fork upside down. John corrects him,

"How can you be so smart and completely clueless at the same time?" He asks.

"I am far from clueless. My creators just didn't see the point in putting such useless information in my database." He keeps saying that, yet here he is. John doesn't think they would give him the equipment and not give him the information to use it.

He's starting to get the feeling that they weren't done with Sherlock when he escaped.

In any case, John is more amused than anything.

"Have at it, then." He says.

Sherlock stares down at the egg and looks a bit overwhelmed. John rolls his eyes and grabs Sherlock's hand, "Like this," He says, helping Sherlock peirce a few pieces. "Now put it in your mouth and don't eat the fork."

"I am aware if that." Sherlock says, showing offense once more.

"I'm not sure _what_ you're aware of anymore." He replies, standing from his spot.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asks.

"I'm getting some more breakfast since you're eating mine." John says as he goes towards the kitchen. Sherlock looks surprised and John chuckles, "Don't panic. I wasn't really feeling the eggs, anyway." He goes for a scone and some jam this time and clears off a place at the table. He watches Sherlock as he's eating. Sherlock pokes clumsily at the food as he's eating and John wonders how in the hell something this advanced and intelligent could be so clueless about the most simple things. John wonders what else they didn't get to put into his 'database'. More surprising than that is his behavior. Sherlock gets defensive and offended, even embarrassed! John knows there's a personality inside that machinery, but this is beyond what he's ever seen before. It isn't manufactured, it's natural-- _imperfect_. Something that makes John even more curious about him. For now, John finishes his breakfast and he collects both he and Sherlock's plates and puts them in the dish water. After he finishes, he turns around and leans back against the counter, bringing a hand to his forehead. Sherlock watches him intently.

"You have a headache." He points out and John agrees, "You are still fatigued as well and you will need to sleep soon." John knows Sherlock is right, but he wouldn't dare sleep in the current situation. It's like Sherlock can read his mind. "I am not a threat to you, John Watson."

"That's not it." John says, "I'm more worried about you being a threat to yourself."

"I do not understand."

"If I go to sleep, I won't have an apartment to wake up to."

"I have no intentions of desecrating your apartment." Sherlock insists.

"I know, but right now you're a walking accident." Sherlock is offended by the accusation and is just about to protest, but John cuts him off. "Earlier you went to get off the table and you fell on your face and took me with you! And then you tried to crawl up the fireplace. Not to mention you stood naked in front of the window the entire time I was in the bathroom." There was no way John was going to leave him alone in his apartment. "You've broken three things today."

"That is to be expected seeing as I am getting used to being able to move after the damage to my circuit board."

"Yes, yes, and that's fine and dandy but I'm not going to sleep right now. There are more important things to address."

"You intend to find out my origin and purpose." Sherlock says. John is a bit surprised, "My origin is Venix Corp, a government owned company."

"That's where all the helper bots are made." John remembers. Venix Corp is big not only in the UK, but all over the world for their revolution in technology. Nearly every building has a janitor bot cleaning up throughout the day and factories no longer have workers, but high tech machines instead. Because of them, there are bots working in every dangerous position there is. Some of the people in the city even have robots that clean their house and serve them just like butlers. John worked there for a small period of time before he was moved into a more war-focused segment of the robotics department in the government. "But, why were you there?"

"It was a confidential operation that had been going on behind closed doors. I was the only one. An experiment. They had been trying to engineer a new age of androids to assist in the lab and I was their test drive. They hoped that once I was made, I would help them make more androids and even make some to assist the human race as well, as companions. They named me Sherlock Holmes and gave me appearance and personality. I turned out better than they expected, but they underestimated the brain they put into me. I had a personality of my own."

"Why did you escape?" Sherlock's eyes go distant.

"They figured that I was more dangerous with my own thoughts and they tried to shut me off--reengineer me to conform to their ideas of perfection. I wanted out. I wanted my own life, to see what the world was like."

"But how did you get past all those military men?" Surely there had to have been people guarding the place if there was something that secret going on.

"It is easy to outsmart humans, soldiers in particular." John felt a tinge of offense, but he allowed the android to go on. "They were monkeys with guns, and it did not take me long to find their weakness and exploit it. Then I knew that there would be more, so I had to escape the city."

"But how? There's a wall higher than the sky! And it's damn near indestructible, too!"

"Incorrect, the wall is six-thousand-five-hundred feet in height and I had no need to penetrate the wall. I walked through the gates." John gawks at him, "I arrived in Old London the same night but they had sent someone after me. Not a soldier. A woman."

A woman?

"My systems must have malfunctioned. I could not pick up a threat on her. She appeared to be a normal woman, so I did not identity check her and she shot me. It didn't kill me, but it rendered me unable to move. And this is where you and Molly Hooper come in."

John is in awe that the clutz sitting on his couch managed to take out an entire arsenal of soldiers single handedly and make it through a highly secured gate untouched. Even more concerning is this woman. He wonders who she is and if she'll be back. Sherlock must be able to tell, because he soon says, "My database is offline--To my creators, I am deactivated."

John sits pensively for a while, thinking over what he's heard so far. "Are you regretting your decision to repair me?"

"Of course not." John assures him, though his features show that he's stressed. "It's just a lot to think about..."

"If you are worried that my presence will compromise the safety of you and your loved ones, I have no problem leaving--"

"You're not going anywhere." John says firmly, and he focuses his gaze out of the window. It has started to rain. "There's no reason you need to go running off and getting yourself killed."

"You are worried about my well being?" Sherlock seems surprised.

"I just spent all that time fixing you, of course I am!" John says, looking back to Sherlock and laughing. Sherlock remains silent and John decides he'd better get a shower in. His hands are brown with grease and his clothes smell like machinery. "Alright, you. I'm going for a shower. You sit there and be good. And if you break anything or yourself, you are going to be in big trouble, you got that?" He doesn't wait for an answer from the android and he heads off towards the bathroom. Sherlock doesn't understand how John intends to punish him in the case that he does do something bad, but his logic tells him it would be in his best interest not to get on John's bad side.

 

John stands in the shower for a long time, just letting the warm water cascade over him and he tries to process the situation. There's a very dangerous android sitting in his living room unmonitored. He wonders if it'd be a smart decision to let him stay, but for him, it's a bit late because he's already gone and fixed the thing. John can't just let him go out and get destroyed; he can't even walk properly yet! He wonders what he's going to do with the android...

John finally convinces himself to leave the warmth of the shower and once he slips on some comfortable pants and one of his jumpers, he returns to the livingroom, where he finds Sherlock sitting on the couch and watching the telly. John is relieved he seems more interested in the news than destroying the apartment. Speaking of destroyed, John figures he'd better clean the mess on the kitchen table where he'd been working earlier. He's tired as hell, but isn't so sure he should sleep yet and goes on with his work. He's deep in thought as he cleans and he doesn't notice that someone's entered the apartment until he hears a thud and a loud shriek. He grabs one of his wrenches and rushes to find the source commotion.

"There is an Intruder." Sherlock warns him as he emerges from the kitchen. He nearly chokes when he finds the android holding his landlady against the wall with his forearm against her neck. "Martha Marie Hudson, age 76, what are your intentions in John Watson's flat?"

"I...I just..."

"Sherlock!" John whacks the android upside the head with his wrench and pulls him off of her. Sherlock watches him in disbelief as he tries to comfort the shaken woman.

"I am _so_ sorry, Mrs. Hudson!" He apologizes, "It's my friend, he's just not used to people. He's just come from a bad environment." Sherlock questions 'friend' in the background, but John ignores him and strokes Mrs. Hudson's shoulder comfortingly. Mrs. Hudson smiles,

"It's quite alright. He's just got a very strong grip." She replies, massaging her neck. John bends over to pick up what she must have been carrying before Sherlock attacked her he goes to hand it back, but she shakes her head, "No dear, it's for your friend. I found some shoes and socks and I thought I'd better bring them up. I'm not sure how well they'll fit him, but they're all I have."

"No, no, these are great. We're really grateful," John insists, and he gives Sherlock a pointed stare that says 'sit' and Sherlock retreats back to the couch in defeat. "We'll give them a try," He goes over to Sherlock and, without a second thought, he kneels in front of him and takes one of his feet. He unfolds the grey socks and slips one onto Sherlock's foot. The android watches him closely, as does Mrs. Hudson.

"U-Um, how is Sarah doing?" She asks, and John smiles at the mention of his girlfriend.

"She's great. She's up in Cardiff at a convention." He says as he unties one of the shoes. He doesn't catch her tone.

"What is that?" Sherlock asks curiously as John begins to slip the shoe onto his foot. He reaches to touch the lace but John slaps his hand away and begins to tie it himself.

"It's a shoe." He responds.

"What is its purpose?" Of course that wouldn't be in his database either.

"Shoes protect your feet."

"Poor dear." Mrs. Hudson says, touching her chest, "Doesn't even know what shoes are."

Sherlock doesn't even look at her, but arches his brow at John's explanation.

"That is nonsense. No one is planning on attacking my feet."

"Not that kind of protection, Sherlock." John says, switching and doing the same to Sherlock's other foot. Once he finishes, he stands up with some effort and tells Sherlock to do the same. Sherlock obeys and comes to stand in front of him and that's the first time John really notices how tall the android really is. John isn't really short himself, but next to Sherlock he looks like a dwarf. Sherlock has to be six feet at least.

"Well take a walk around, dear. Let's see how they fit." Mrs. Hudson says and Sherlock looks back to John, who gives him a small nod to signal that he should listen to her. Sherlock doesn't understand, but he does a small walk around the room, watching his feet curiously as he does so. " _Dashing_!" She cries, and Sherlock gives her a confused look, but John invites her into the kitchen before the android has a chance to say anything weird.

"Your _friend_ is quite handsome." She says once they're out of ear shot and she looks at the android fondly as he walks around the room, "He looks a bit like my late husband when we were younger, apart from the hair of course." Oh yeah, the hair!

"I was wondering if you could do us a big favor and give it a trim when you have the time." He asks, and her face seems to lighten up.

"Of course, dear. I'll just go down and get my shears."

"No, you don't have trouble yourself with it right now, just whenever!"

"It's fine, John. I've got nothing to do since the shop is closed today. I'll just be a minute."

And sure enough, a few minutes later, Mrs. Hudson has Sherlock in a chair in the middle of the living room with a towel around his shoulders. "How do you want it, dear?" She asks while playing with a few of his curls. Sherlock looks at John as if he's being sacrificed to Satan and John has to hold back his laughter.

"It's okay, Sherlock. She's not going to hurt you, she's only going to cut your hair." He assures the android. Sherlock doesn't seem to completely believe John, but he doesn't move.

"Just give it a trim, Mrs. Hudson." The process is relatively painless and Sherlock watches the locks of hair fall past his face more so in curiosity than worry. She finishes in about ten minutes.

 

"There we go, nice and clean!" Mrs. Hudson pulls the towel away and brushes the excess hairs from his shirt.

"Go take a look, Sherlock." John coaxes him up out of his seat and gives him a gentle push towards the mirror. The android walks towards the mirror and John helps Mrs. Hudson sweep up the mess of hair.

"You truly do have a very handsome _friend_ , John." She says, winking at John as he dumps the dustpan into the trash. "But I do wonder, how on earth did he know my name?"

"Oh, I told him about you."

"Really now? Nothing bad I hope," She giggles and John waves his hand,

"Of course not, Mrs. Hudson. There's nothing bad to say!"

"Stop it, you. Flattery will get you nowhere," She jokes, swatting him with the towel. He laughs as well and follows her towards the door. "Will your _friend_ be staying with you?"

She asks from the doorway. John glances over his shoulder at the android playing with his hair in front of the mirror and then back to her.

"Not quite sure yet, but I'll let you know in the morning." He says and Mrs. Hudson makes an 'O' with her mouth and starts to laugh.

"I see, well I'll leave you two to it then. And don't worry, I won't mention it to Sarah either. You can trust me," She throws him a wink and all of a sudden, it hits him. She doesn't mean--Oh god!

"No wait, we're not--"

"Good luck with tonight, dear!" And then she's off down the stairs. John stares after her with his mouth slightly agape. He can feel Sherlock's eyes on him now and he sighs, turning to face the android, who looks much better with the hair out of his eyes.

"Well, how do you like it?" John asks, approaching him.

"I am neutral on the matter." John can't say he's surprised to hear that. "It does, however, improve my visual capabilities by forty-two percent." That must be Sherlock's way of saying he likes it better, and John smiles.

"Yeah, you might be able to pass as a normal human now. But If you're gonna stay, you can't attack everyone who comes to the door. That doesn't go over well with humans."

Sherlock's eyes widen bit and he turns to face John fully.

"You are keeping me?" He questions.

"No, no, no, I'm not 'keeping' you. You're perfectly capable of making your own decisions." Sherlock arches a brow at him and John feels a bit awkward. "I'm just saying...you can stay. you know, if you want to."

"What will I do here?" John shrugs and balances on the balls of his feet.

"I dunno...You'll live, I guess...?" This seems to perk Sherlock's interest and John continues, "You can be my flatmate and no one will question it so long as you act normal." It isn't much, but It has to be better than going back and chancing being found, right?

"How do I act 'normal'?"

"And that's a question for another time." And John yawns and rubs his forehead. He is minutes from passing out if he doesn't get some sleep. "I'm going for a nap. Stay if you want to, but don't break anything or I will hunt you down." He points a finger at the android and goes through the kitchen and down the corridor to his bedroom. He feels a bit better about leaving Sherlock alone now, but it never hurts to remind him of the consequences just in case he does decide to get adventurous.

John sleeps a lot longer than he intended to, and when he does finally come around, he can see '9:30pm' glowing in red from the clock on his nightstand. He curses and rubs his eyes. Well, at least he still seems to _have_ an apartment, and he doesn't smell smoke, so that's something. He lays there for a bit, wondering if Sherlock _did_ end up staying. Would something like him want to live a domestic life, or does he have other goals? Do androids have a concept of revenge? Maybe Sherlock wants to hunt down the woman who shot him and send a message to his makers; maybe human life might even be too difficult for him. Sherlock can't even clothe himself without help. What if he _is_ better off in a lab until they finish him? No, John can't believe he just thought that. Sherlock isn't just some experiment. He has thoughts and opinions, and while he's not the most human thing in the world, John has a feeling he'll learn with time. He doesn't belong in a lab!

John wonders why he's so conflicted about this android... And _why_ is there something blue glowing out of the corner of his eye? John interrupts his thoughts to look over at a pair of blue orbs hovering beside his bed, just a few feet higher than himself. He gasps and quickly reaches to turn on the lamp. The light assaults his eyes, but once he regains his vision, he finds none other than Sherlock standing over his bed. "What the hell, Sherlock!" He curses, sitting up and raising a hand to rub his forehead. "What are you doing in here--hang on, what was up with your eyes, mate?" He squints, but Sherlock's eyes look their normal shade of blue, with no sign of glowing. The android seems to have no idea what he's talking about, so he turns off the lamp again just to be sure he wasn't hallucinating. Again, Sherlock's eyes glow baby blue and John crawls closer to get a better look. The more he stares, the clearer they become. There are rotating circles in Sherlock's iris. Freaky.

Sherlock must have noticed his eyes in the reflection of John's, because seconds later the orbs disappear and John turns on the lamp again. "Do your eyes always look like that in the dark?" John asks, relaxing back into a sitting position.

"Only when I am scanning something." John's eyes widen and he pulls the blankets over him like Sherlock can see through his clothes.

"You were scanning me in my sleep?!" He shrieks, feeling violated.

"I was simply monitoring your vital signs." This makes John feel even worse and Sherlock can tell, "I can tell without touching you. It is part of my interface." John sighs.

"Look, I'm grateful and all that, but you can't watch people while they sleep."

Sherlock tilts his head and furrows his brows.

"I was only in here for three hours, I do not understand the problem--"

John holds up a hand to stop him, feeling sick.

"...I have decided I will stay for the time being." Sherlock says after a bit. John arches a brow at him. Oh.

John can't deny that he feels a bit relieved, but he's still fighting off shivers at the thought of Sherlock scanning him while he sleeps.

"That's good, but we've got to lay down some rules--"

"Dear, I think I've lost one of my earrings!" Mrs. Hudson's voice sounded through the apartment, drawing Sherlock's attention immediately.

"I will get it in case it is a trap." He says, ignoring John's protests completely and going off down the hall.

"Wait, no, Sherlock!" John throws his blankets aside and dashes off after the android.

He can tell from this moment on that there isn't going to be another boring moment in his life as long as Sherlock is there. What he can't tell yet is if that's good or bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  



End file.
